Friends Like These
by SkyeRose
Summary: We all have a competitive side and Sam's has come out to play. Except she can only win if she lies and now she has to get all cozy with her CO. But, to be fair, she did ask everyone else first...SamJack fluffy fun! Two or three parter just for the heck of it.
1. Questions and Answers

**Friends Like These**

**Chapter One: Questions and Answers**

**A/N: Hey guys! Thank you to all who are reading 'The Long Road!' I just posted chapter two and chapter three will be up in the next few days! This fic here starts off differently than any other, so I hope you don't mind!**

**Enjoy!**

"Daniel."

"Sam."

"Daniel!"

"Sam."

"Come on, I'd do it for you!"

"No, you wouldn't."

"I...might."

"No."

"But it's different!"

"Not happening, Sam."

….

"Major Carter, you know I care for you as my sister."

"Yes, and I love you like a brother, so does that mean you'll-"

"It is despite this feeling that I must decline."

"Aw, Teal'c, please?"

"Perhaps another time."

"It's usually supposed to be a one-time thing, Teal'c."

"Then let us hope for an exception to that."

"That's not really...yeah. Okay. Thanks anyway."

"It is my pleasure, Major Carter."

…..

"Janet..."

"Getting desperate, huh?"

"Oh, shut up."

"I would if I could, but I can't, so I won't."

"Great."

…

"Hi, sir."

"Carter, something I can do for you?"

"Actually, yes, sir."

"Shoot."

"I was wondering if you'd be free for a team night this Saturday?"

"Sure, I think we're pretty long overdue for some pizza and beer. Whose place?"

"So, you're free? This Saturday?"

"As a bird."

"Okay, don't be mad. I lied. Sir."

"Oh?"

"I have this wedding that I really don't want to go to but I said I would so I should, but I don't want to go alone. See, it's my old academy friend, Jessa Scwartz, well soon to be Thompson, but, anyway, she always thought I was a loner so the last time we spoke I told her that I was, um, engaged. Which shouldn't have been a big deal because we never see each other, but then _she_ got engaged and I never in a million years expected to be invited to her wedding, let alone get a plus one and I know she's only doing this to call my bluff and embarrass me, but I really don't want her to win. Not this time. How long are you going to let me go on for?"

"Until you take a breath. Geez, Carter, all that technobabble practice gave you quite the lungspan."

"So?"

"I'm thinking."

**TBC**

**A/N: So, a totally different style than I've ever done and maybe that you're used to reading! Part two won't be the same way. These conversations just popped into my head as I was trying to fall asleep the other day and I wrote them in my phone and decided I kind of liked it without all the internal descriptors. But only this one time. Thank you!**


	2. All That Pomp and Circumstance

**Chapter Two: All That Pomp and Circumstance**

**A/N: So many of you really liked that conversational style! I might have to do a oneshot or something of just that. For now, we're back to regular ole storytelling. Thank you all!**

**Enjoy!**

Sam blew out a frustrated breath, feeling her bangs rustle against her forehead. The tickling sensation only served to further annoy her, so she let out another sigh, the air—unsurprisingly- further disturbed her hair, and Sam was well aware that she'd just begun a vicious cycle.

After much "thinking"—which directly translated into "let's see how long I can make Carter sweat it out"—the colonel had agreed to come with her to the wedding. He hadn't mentioned the 'engaged' bit and, seeing as how Sam herself had not intended on actually telling him that part, she didn't remind him or question him about it. He'd asked attire—dressy casual, venue—secular, and TOD—5pm, to be safe. Then he'd wagged a finger at her, said she owed him, and left his office with the parting words, "I'll pick you up at 4:45 and they better have an open bar. Also, no dress blues, I can see you thinking it."

She had scowled until he left, then scowled even further when she realized he was right. She _had_ been thinking it.

Sam hated dressing up. She'd never quite reached the comfort level with swingy hemlines that her peers had demonstrated; always much preferring pants and a shirt. On the odd occasion the Air Force had a formal event, she was comfortable enough in the Class A's and that was mostly only because everyone else would be wearing them too.

Yet, here she stood. In a dress. With a damn swingy hemline.

Both Janet and Cassie had assured her that the pale lilac of the chiffon managed to both bring out her eyes and offset her pale skin. So, that probably meant win-win. But she still felt distinctly _bare_—the strapless sweetheart neckline did nothing to alleviate her nip-slip concerns (no Janet Jackson's tonight, thank you), but her self proclaimed gal pals had only squealed about how on trend it was and left all the stuffy, practical thinking to Sam.

Convenient that she was pretty good at that.

Huffing one final sigh as she looked at her reflection in her bedroom's full length mirror, Sam shrugged halfheartedly. The floaty chiffon skirt fell to just past her knees, highlighting her long legs and lean build. That in itself was sort of counter-intuitive to Sam. Back in college all the girls had worn short skirts and dresses adopting the age-old motto: the shorter it is, the taller I look.

But, Sam decided she looked tall enough as it were. She had also chosen to forgo the cliché high heels and opted for a pair of flats. No need to further embarrass herself by tripping and breaking an ankle.

Man, she'd feel better if she could just carry her gun…

A perfunctory knock on her front door disrupted Sam's wishful thinking. Tearing her underwhelmed gaze from her reflection, Sam grabbed her tan leather jacket—she really didn't like how naked her shoulders felt—and the small clutch Cassie had shoved into her hands the day before. It was the tiniest purse Sam had ever seen, but it magically managed to hold everything she was bringing; cellphone, cash, ID, SGC key card, gum, and the lipstick she'd pilfered from Janet's bag.

What? It matched her dress…

Noting that her clock read 4:45 on the dot, Sam let a quick grin replace her earlier self-criticism. He never could get to a briefing on time, but at the promise of free alcohol and the chance to mercilessly mock his second in command, he really let that military punctuality shine through.

As her hand reached to open the door, she felt the itchy fingers of doubt and self-consciousness begin to worm their way across her exposed skin. She looked ridiculous, she just _knew_ it, and she really didn't want him to think she looked ridiculous because, well, she just didn't, okay?

Hesitating a second longer, Sam decided to hell with this whole thing, she was going to change into her damn dress blues. But her colonel had other ideas. "Carter!" Sam jumped about a foot in the air, having completely forgotten that the only reason she had walked to the front door in the first place was because her CO was standing on the other side of it.

Years of military protocol kicked into high gear and, without thinking, Sam's fingers closed around her doorknob and turned, trading her entryway's shadows for bright afternoon sunlight. Blinking against the sudden fiery light, Sam only _just_ managed to turn the look on her face from 'gawk' to 'squinty sensitivity' before her colonel could read her expression.

Because, damn, the man cleaned up nice.

Which Sam had already known, of course, having seen him in his BDUs, his flaks, his deserts, his civvies, his dress blues, his—well, she had _eyes_. But, she'd never seen him look quite like this before. He could have stepped out of GQ or whatever other rag oozed male sexiness. Dressed in all black from the neck down, he filled Sam's doorway, one hand braced on the doorjamb while the other rested casually half-tucked into his slack's front pocket.

_Now_ Sam remembered why she was also so willing to go along whenever SG-1 went on unauthorized missions—he looked _so good_ in all black. Dangerously good. The kind of good that made Sam's brain go a little mushy and she would have to think long and hard about why they listened to the regulations in the first place.

For his part, his eyes seemed to be doing just as much traveling as hers, though Sam didn't really have any spare brain cells to put to work on that particular observation. "New dress?" It was an innocuous enough question, but Sam's heart sped up. She didn't want to admit to him that yes, this was a new dress, because if she admitted that, then she might accidentally tell him that she had picked it out because one time he'd mentioned she looked nice in purple.

"This?" Sam waved her hand in what was supposed to be an airy gesture, but it came out more jerky than anything else. "Nope. Had it for awhile." Casual indifference? Nailed it.

"Ah." Jack's eyes found his major's and he absently noted that the pale color of her dress made her eyes stand out even more than usual. That, or the dark liner rimming them. Either way, they were huge and blue and very, very easy to start getting lost in. "It…" He trailed, not trusting his mouth to behave itself.

Sam watched him search for whatever words wanted to come and found her nervousness had increased tenfold. She found that she both did and did not want to hear what he had to say. Because if she were brutally honest, she wanted him to compliment her. They _never_ got to go anywhere dressy that wasn't a military sponsored shindig and despite her hemming and hawing, Sam had very much wanted him to like her dress.

What's more, she really wanted him to like _her_ in her dress.

"It fits you." He finished, rather lamely in both their opinions.

After a beat Sam quirked her eyebrow, her earlier tension unexplainably eased by his sort-of compliment. At least she wasn't the only one severely lacking in the suave department. Suddenly feeling much better about this whole thing, she let herself relax a little bit. "Well, that's awkward."

"It is?" His eyebrow jumped up to match hers.

"Yes. Because, unfortunately, that shirt is just…" She pulled an exaggerated face and shook her head briefly.

"Funny, Carter."

"I thought so." She grinned as she shooed him backwards and then pulled the door closed behind them, locked the deadbolt, and then threw her keys into the tiny purse. Seriously, how did the thing _fit_ all that stuff?

"Careful, or I just might decide to take it back."

"Sir? Take what back?" Sam tilted her head curiously as she followed him to his truck, trying to glance over his shoulder to see if he was holding something.

"Oh, right." He stopped short, hand diving into his pocket as he turned to face her.

Sam had stopped a little more than a foot behind him, curiosity warring with wariness. Knowing him, it was just as likely to be a signed affidavit giving him full permission to make fun of her for this forever as it was to be an engagement ring.

Oh, wait.

Oh, _no_.

"Wait, sir," The words were out before Sam could stop them, holding up her hand in a spot on imitation of a crossing guard. "I know I kind of threw it out at you, but I don't really know if it's appropriate given the circumstances…"

"Appropriate?" He squinted at her, his hand retreating from the fold of his pants. "I mean, I know we're out of the mountain, but-,"

"But regulations still apply." Sam hated herself for saying it—hated herself even more for the desperation in her voice. She was already nervous about this whole stupid wedding and if he was about to do something that could compromise their position at the SGC, well, Sam was positive that she couldn't handle it. Now wasn't the time.

Even if it was a stupid fake engagement because she was a stupidly bad liar.

"Regulations? I didn't know we'd written anything in stone—wait, what do you think I'm talking about?" He cocked his head, amusement flaring in his eyes.

Sam swallowed her immediate response of, "Our fake engagement, obviously," and settled for a much more sedate, "What do _you_ think we're talking about?"

He paused just long enough to let her know he wasn't fooled, then opened his hand, revealing the small object in his palm. "Your USB? You let me borrow it a few weeks ago. Sorry I'm late in returning it." He winced apologetically as he deposited the thumb drive into her palm, fingers just brushing hers.

Sam stared at the thing in her hand for a long second, brain trying to catch up with what he was saying. Not a ring, a flash drive. When had she let him borrow a flash drive? Oh, no, that's right…he'd come looking for her a few weeks ago saying that Hammond wanted digital copies of some files on the colonel's hard drive…

Yeah, she'd thought it strange too, at the time.

But then she'd forgotten about it. And now she was paying for that lapse in memory.

"That's exactly what I thought you were talking about." Suddenly very grateful that her little magic bag was in her other hand, she dumped the USB into the zippered pouch like she'd been expecting to receive it all along.

"Uh huh. You know, major, lying to your commanding officer can be considered a very serious offense." He smirked at the challenge that flitted through her eyes at his words.

"I'm aware of that, sir. That's why I told you about your shirt."

Huffing a small chuckle, Jack nodded. "Okay. I'll remember that." He started back towards his truck, thumbing the keys' unlock button. "I'm not even going to warn you that that might turn your finger green."

"My finger?" Sam frowned as he opened her door and waited for her to clamber up. Once she was settled, he shut her door and walked around the front of the truck to get in on the driver's side, all the while feeling her eyes on him.

He buckled his seatbelt and started the car before turning twinkling eyes on his 2IC. "Remind me to work 'observation' into SG-1's training schedule."

"Obser…" Sam's eyes widened and she realized her mistake before she ever looked down. Now very much aware of the unaccustomed weight on her left ring finger, she squeezed her digits together and felt the thin band press into her skin. "How did you…" She didn't bother finishing the question as she looked down at the simple silver metal now adorning her finger.

"Sorry it's nothing to write home about. Next time, you should give me more of a heads up."

"Next time?" Well, if that wasn't a squeak, Sam didn't know what was.

Instead of answering, Jack threw the truck in reverse and backed out of her driveway, studiously avoiding her eyes under the guise of being a safe driver. If Carter had thought she was getting off easy today…well. She had another think coming. "And you should probably drop the 'sir' for today, Carter. You know, mutual equality, and all."

Sam only nodded a response, not trusting her voice after its little squeaking betrayal. All she knew was this was the last time she was ever speaking to Jessa—this whole thing was basically her fault, anyhow.

**TBC**

**A/N: Yay! Next chapter we get to the wedding! And it gets even more awkward, if possible…thank you!**


End file.
